


I'll take your heart for mine

by Anonymous



Series: The Count's Magician [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: As romantic as Lucio can get I guess, Both Lucio and the Apprentice are perverts, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, My dumb demisexual ass somehow made this romantic? It just happened, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Self-Indulgent, There's no given name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “It’s almost like you love me or something.” There’s something about the way he says that that makes you wonder if he’s challenging you. Whether it’s to tell him he’s wrong, or to prove him right, you’re not sure.





	I'll take your heart for mine

**Author's Note:**

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> (For real though, this is literally the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written in my entire life, I almost didn't even post this, I don't actually care if anyone reads it or if it's out of character or gross WHATEVER I JUST WANTED TO WRITE IT OKAY)

There is a hand on your behind. It’s cold, metal, clawed, and dragging along your thinly covered cheeks almost idly, being so careful not to pierce your leggings, let alone your skin, but you and the owner of this hand are very well aware that it could do some gruesome damage if so desired.

This is not what’s flushing your face hot with humiliation, however. What’s really embarrassing is the room full of eyes behind you—ones you know could very well be watching you being groped shamelessly—people that have to pretend like this is all completely normal lest they face your groper’s wrath. On the bright side, at least you can’t see them.

You are perched on the lap of the infamous Count Lucio of Vesuvia, straddling his slightly spread legs (therefore spreading yours even wider), with your face thankfully buried in his neck. His golden left arm is wrapped around you while he fondles your backside, and his other rests on his throne’s armrest, chin in his hand and expression clearly bored. There’s a council meeting going on right now, with all of the many courtiers present—and all are audience to your display.

Lucio doesn’t seem to care about them, however. You can tell that he’s not even really paying attention to what they’re saying. He’s just nodding along and approving or denying this or that as fast as he can to get the meeting over with as soon as possible. You know exactly what he’s so impatient for, and it makes you shudder and squirm a little in his lap. He apparently notices, because he laughs quiet and low in his throat and squeezes your backside a little harder, metal digging in just enough to pinch.

“Do be patient, lovely,” he mutters into your ear, as though he’s not the antsy one here, “Meeting’s almost over.”

“Milord, about the Winterseve festival…” Lucio goes back to pretending like he cares about the meeting, but his hand starts getting more adventurous. He drags it up and slides one finger beneath the waistband of your leggings and undergarments to get at bare skin. You can’t help but gasp at both the touch and its coldness. The claw of his finger drags along your skin delicately before reaching between your cheeks. It moves down so achingly slowly that your breath gets shallow, until it suddenly stops just above your hole.

When you look up at Lucio in confusion, his face looks equal parts shocked and furious. He sits up straight and glares at the courtiers, “Meeting adjourned.”

“B-but milord—” one of the courtiers pipes up. They aren’t given a chance to finish.

“Did I stutter? _Get out_!” he snarls. They all start shuffling out, but he doesn’t wait until they leave to turn his fierce gaze towards you.

“Who was it?” he hisses.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “Who was what?” you ask hesitantly. Lucio’s whiplash temper is well-known, and you know that being a favorite of his doesn’t necessarily protect you from it.

“Don’t play dumb.” He pushes you onto one of his armrests and yanks down your leggings. He spreads your cheeks and, with his flesh-and-blood right hand, he presses his thumb down against your hole, loose and moderately wet with oil. “Who fucked you before you came here?”

Oh. That. You bite your lip, taking a deep breath to steel yourself before answering honestly. “I… That was me. I thought you, um. Wouldn’t want to wait when the meeting was over, so I prepared myself for you ahead of time.”

Lucio is so quiet in response that you look over your shoulder nervously. But to your surprise, he’s staring at you with a rare look of one caught off guard; his eyes are wide and his lips parted. His tongue darts out to wet them.

“For me…?” he says so quietly that it’s almost a whisper more to himself than you. Then his expression morphs into something you’re much more used to, the seductive lidded eyes and wicked smirk of a man on the hunt. You repress the shiver trying to go down your spine.

“How kind of you,” he says slowly, “But don’t do it again. The foreplay is just as exciting as the actual sex, you know.” He pulls your leggings and undergarments off completely, followed by your shirt. You expect him to ask you to ride him (it wouldn’t be the first time in this throne), but he directs you to stand instead, rising himself.

At first, you’re almost worried he’s going to make you walk somewhere else completely naked, but to your relief, he gestures to the throne.

You’re…not sure what he wants you to do though. Sit on it…? You move to do so, but he tuts and maneuvers you so your hands are on the backrest and your knees are on the edge of the seat. Then he pushes down on your back to arch it invitingly. It’s an utterly shameless pose, and it’s hard to resist moving. The interested purr from behind you tells you he’s satisfied, at least.

There’s some rustling of clothing behind you, and then you feel Lucio’s hard and hot length resting between your cheeks. You jump a little at the contact, and you hope he’s not going to just put it in right away. Luckily, he’s not, he just starts lazily rutting against you, while—you glance over your shoulder—he digs into his pocket for something.

He pulls out a vial of oil, and pours some of it onto his fingers. When he pulls his hips away, you think he’s going to lubricate himself, but two fingers plunge abruptly into your hole, and you keen with surprise.

Lucio leans down to murmur into your ear, “So wet and open for me…” He shoves in a third finger, and then a fourth when he realizes just how well you prepared yourself. “So eager for me to fuck you that you wanted to get all this out of the way.” He presses down roughly on your prostate and your moan comes out strangled. The lewd sigh that comes from him at your noise makes it sound like he’s the one being pleasured.

Leaning back up, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you hard and fast, and with his free hand, he pours more oil over your hole, positively soaking your insides. It’s entirely indecent and it makes you feel like you’re on fire. You need more. His fingers are nice, but they’re not his dick, and you just want him inside you already.

“P-please,” you stutter, voice quiet with embarrassment, “I’m ready, just…”

“Just what?” his tone is knowing, and you grip hard on the backrest, “You have to tell me.” You almost regret preparing yourself ahead of time, now that you know how much he’d tease you for it.

“Lucio, I—”

“Love it when you say my name,” he groans, targeting your sensitive spot again, wrenching another pathetic noise from your throat.

“Just f-fu— _ah_ —” You don’t know how you’re supposed to do as he asked if he’s just going to keep abusing that spot. “ _Fuck_ me,” you finally manage between thrusts.

Lucio hums in thought facetiously, “Aren’t I already?” You let out a pitiful whimper and he laughs. “If you want something else, you’re going to have to be more specific. Also,” he adds, “how about you beg for it?”

Oh _God_ , he’s being merciless today. But you’re starting to get hopelessly desperate, so you ready yourself, take a deep gasping breath, and say, “ _Please_ , Lucio, I need your cock, please, _please_ , _please_ …”

“Mm, since you asked so nicely,” he says, smug, and he pulls his fingers from you so he can cover his length with the oil. You feel terribly empty, and without stimulation, you can feel some oil dripping down your perineum to your balls and the wet skin turns a little cool, making you shiver.

But then Lucio is pushing inside you without pause, and some of the excessive amount of oil inside you gushes out around him. It’s utterly obscene—and you love it. When he’s completely inside of you, he stills, and rubs your backside with both hands before moving them up to your hips. He’s careful with his claws in a way that warms your heart a little.

“If only this could be every day.” He pulls out almost all the way, then drives back in harshly, making you whine, before pausing again. “Just me and you,” he thrusts hard once more before starting a slow but heavy pace, “together like this, forever…” His words are almost sweet, if it weren’t for the dirty grind inside you tarnishing the romance. You wonder if he could truly love you, like you love him. (You wish he would. But you can admit that that’s a pipe dream.)

He groans out your name, then laughs. “You know, it’s a good thing you didn’t go to someone else,” he says almost casually, “because if you had…” He leans down to growl in your ear, “I probably would have killed them.” Then he bites the back of your neck with little restraint, making your back arch even further.

And it should scare you. Logically, in your head, you know a violent threat like that should terrify you, trigger your fight or flight response, urge you to run away and don’t look back. But some perverse part of you _enjoys_ it. The possessiveness, the humiliation, all of it turns you on faster than anything in your life ever has, turning your brain to mush the longer you’re exposed to it. So as Lucio fucks you, so painfully slowly while marking up your neck and shoulders with bites and hickeys, and threatens whatever imagined paramour you could have, you cry out in pleasure, nails digging into the backrest. If it’s the closest thing to love you’ll get from him, you’ll gladly take it.

He reaches beneath you with his left hand to take your nipple between the sides of two claws, pinching it and pulling. It mostly hurts, but the contrast with the pleasure only heightens it. It feels good, but still you need more.

“Lu-Lucio,” you whimper. He’s going too slowly, and the heat is slowly burning you alive. But instead of asking directly, you try to speed it along by swaying your hips back into his. When you do, his hands return to your hips and hold you still.

“Did I say you could move?” Groaning, you shake your head. “So greedy, aren’t you?” Your head hangs low with shame. He clicks his tongue and mumbles under his breath, “Can’t see you like this…”

Then suddenly, he pulls out of you, and you jerk to look at him. Is he stopping—? But then he wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you back against him before sliding an arm down and under your legs so he can carry you bridal style. He can see all of you like this, including the way your neglected erection is dark and absolutely soaking. Your breath hitches and you look away, face burning.

“Hiding from me?” Lucio asks with amusement as he walks the few feet to the council table. He lies you down on the edge of it and spreads your legs wide. Then he reaches down to grasp your jaw, claws digging in when he turns you to face him. “Look only at me or I won’t give it to you,” he singsongs.

You nod furiously. You’re not sure what you’d do if he stopped now. At your assent, he plunges back in, this time moving a lot faster. Not as roughly as he has in the past, more of a smooth glide that feels more refined than what Lucio typically goes for.

Regardless, it feels heavenly, and your eyelids begin to droop. but you keep them open for him. He stares back at you, smirking, but attentive. It fills you with another rush of arousal, and loud moans come from you unbidden as he ruthlessly pounds against your most sensitive spot. It’s embarrassing, but the second you lift a hand to cover your mouth, his hands dart to your wrists and pin them beside your head.

“Now, now, dearest,” he scolds, panting in tune to his thrusts, “you didn’t think I’d just let you do that, hm? Not when your moaning is music to my ears.” He leans down to nuzzle against your cheek, so soft compared to his brutal pace inside you. You nuzzle him back, a wretched little noise coming choked from your throat, followed by a feeble plea of his name. To your disappointment, he straightens up again, staring at you with a hungry expression.

“You’re so desperate for me,” he says, as breathless as he is smug. “You want it so bad…” he laughs, “It’s almost like you love me or something.” There’s something about the way he says that that makes you wonder if he’s challenging you. Whether it’s to tell him he’s wrong, or to prove him right, you’re not sure. But either way, you’re too delirious with pleasure to lie.

“I-I do— _ah_ — _I love you_ —” You gasp as one particularly rough thrust hits you so dead on that you come untouched, back arching on a loud cry. It takes you some time to come back to yourself, but when you do, you realize Lucio is no longer moving. That’s strange; usually he doesn’t stop, making you come on him twice before he finishes himself. You open your eyes to look at him. Like earlier, he looks off-balanced, almost vulnerable. That’s when you remember what it is you said. His grip on your arms has loosened considerably, so when you reflexively slap a hand over your mouth, he doesn’t stop you. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s much too late.

You turn your head away. “Lucio, I…” There’s nothing you can say that isn’t a bald-faced lie, and you’re sure he knows it. This kind of reaction is what you were scared of, this is why you never told him how you felt. Lucio wasn’t the type to commit, you knew that. Somehow you were lucky enough to have this _something_ start between you, and you tried to content yourself with that alone. Now it’s all ruined because of a single moment of weakness.

Lucio’s clawed hand grips your jaw again, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are intent on yours. “Say it again,” he orders you, and you can’t help but shiver.

“I…” you bite your lip and swallow, “I love you.” Then you shut your eyes and add, “I’m sorry, I can leave—”

“No!” Your eyes open wide with surprise. Lucio has a look of desperation you’ve never seen before, something both afraid and angry to be. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he gives up with a grunt. Then, oddly, he starts moving again, so gentle that the oversensitivity of your prostate orgasm doesn’t entirely wreck you. You’re not sure if he’s doing it out of consideration or something else, though.

He fucks you slowly like this for a while until you’re both panting again. He places his right hand on your chest over your heart, and you feel it skip a beat.

“Tell me why,” he says, voice a little raw. You stare at him, puzzled.

“Why what…?”

“Why do you love me?” He glares at you, as if he thinks you’ve lying the whole time just to mess with him. “I want you to tell me.”

“You’re— _nnh_ …” He suddenly stops moving again, likely so you can answer him properly. “You’re…strong. And brave. You’re passionate, and it’s cute that you love animals. You’re loud and selfish and over-dramatic sometimes,” you smile to yourself as you list off all your reasons, “but I think it’s charming. Also I…” You shut your eyes as you admit quietly, “I think your, ah…your tantrums can be…a-attractive sometimes…”

When you’re finished speaking, Lucio doesn’t react at first, and you cautiously open your eyes. But then, through the general thin flush of arousal, you see his face bloom with red. It’s a disarming sight, and it’s so distracting that you don’t notice his hands moving until you feel them, his clawed one wrapping around one of your hips, and the other fisting in your hair. You gasp when he yanks you up at the waist.

His eyes are half-lidded but his gaze on you is searing, making you light-headed with their intensity. “So you wouldn’t complain if I made you mine and _only_ mine…?” he asks, quiet and dangerous and hot, and you don’t even hesitate to shake your head. “You’d give me your heart? You’d trust me with it?” Again, you don’t hesitate, giving him a nod. He lifts his clawed hand to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath and digging his claws in just shy of piercing skin. “…Would you die for me?”

A small pained noise escapes you, but still you answer, voice weak, “I’d do anything for you, Lucio…”

Suddenly he drops you, and you fall back onto your elbows. His right hand moves to cover his face, while his other moves back to your hip, keeping you from moving. For a few moments, you’re worried you’ve upset him, answered him in some way that’s displeased him. You would try to run if he wasn’t gripping you so tightly.

You open your mouth to try and apologize again, but then you notice his shoulders shaking, followed by muffled laughter. It makes your stomach drop, and you cringe a little, turning your head away. Nothing quite mood-killing as being laughed at after bearing your heart to someone. But then he drops his hand, and the grin on his face is manic.

“You love me,” he says, tone light and honestly happy in a way you so rarely hear. It kindles a little hope in your chest. Pausing only a moment, you nod. “You _love_ me,” he says, quieter and more sultry. You nod again. “You want to be mine? I’ll make you _mine_.”

Suddenly, he becomes a flurry of activity; he starts fucking you again, hard and fast, and he bends down to bite and suck hard on your neck. His hands drag roughly on your body, leaving scratches and bruises everywhere he can reach. It feels like a hurricane of furious passion has descended on you, and you can hardly breathe, let alone vocalize the pleasure you’re feeling. Your fading erection quickly springs back to life, and your back remains arched more than not, which Lucio’s roaming hands take advantage of.

As you begin to scoot back on the table with his heavy thrusts, he grabs your thighs and tugs you back onto his cock, wrapping your legs around his waist afterwards. Your hips and backside now hang slightly off the table, and his right hand moves beneath you to squeeze a cheek tight, pulling it aside a little to give him just a little more ability to breach you.

When you cry out his name, he laughs under his breath, “That’s right, say my name—say _only_ my name, _be mine_ —” As he talks, you nod along, only half-registering what he’s actually saying. “No one else can see you like this, no one else can have you, because _you’re mine_ — _ngh_ —you _love_ me—”

Eventually it becomes too much, and you come again, moaning his name again and feeling like you’re about to combust. You feel ejaculate splatter on your abdomen and stomach, and unlike before, Lucio doesn’t stop and save you from overstimulation. He ignores your whimpering, and just goes back to biting and marking you up, moving on from your neck to your collarbone and shoulders.

It doesn’t take long for him to orgasm though, he thrusts as deep as he can, come filling you up and making you feel absolutely filthy, but just as much satisfied. He stays inside you until he’s softened completely, and even then, he goes about pulling out slowly. You feel some of his come start oozing out of you, a couple drops hitting the floor. When you look up at him, he’s smirking lazily at your hole. He reaches a hand down to shove his fingers inside you, pushing it all back in. You gasp, and release the breath on a shudder.

“You can’t take it back,” he says, looking at you again. “I won’t let you take it back,” he adds with a glower.

“I don’t want to,” you mutter. “I love you.”

Lucio looks content at that and grins. “I know you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me where in the timeline it takes place, it just happens, okay, don't worry about it
> 
> The poem the title's from is called ["To Artina" by Langston Hughes](https://www.google.com/amp/s/genius.com/amp/Langston-hughes-to-artina-annotated)


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